


Dear Soldier

by aeryntheofficial



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Army, F/M, Fluff, Military, Modern!Boba Fett, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeryntheofficial/pseuds/aeryntheofficial
Summary: Boba was born and raised to serve in the military, it's all he's ever known. He has faced many terrible things during his time serving. Yet the one thing he never expected that has bothered him the most is loneliness. He watches as the soldiers in his squad get letters and care packages while he receives none. Never has. That is until you, a librarian, finds out about the 'Dear Soldier' Program. And suddenly...Boba isn't so lonely anymore.
Relationships: Boba Fett & You, Boba Fett/Reader, Modern!Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Dear Soldier

The monotonous dull white color is what greets Boba as he peels his eyes open, the shrill cry of the alarm clock to his right, forcing him away from his slumber. From there, he goes through his morning routine in an almost robotic way. 

Wake up. Make his bed. Wash his face. Brush his teeth. Get dressed in his fatigues. Lace his boots. Leave the house. Make sure to lock the door. Then walk to base to start his day. 

Every single day is the same routine ,  and while he wants to hate it, he can’t. He was born for this,  _ bred  _ for this. The strict routine of the military had been instilled in him from a young age by his father. He couldn’t see himself being anywhere else than on a base overseas serving his country. 

Yet, lately, he couldn't help but feel that something was missing from his daily life. Like an itch he can’t scratch ,  or a word he just can’t seem to come up with. 

Boba shakes his head as he enters the mess hall on base, knowing very very well that he could buy his own groceries to keep at the house that the army provided for him, but he has never been a good cook, and prefers to eat the already prepared food at the mess. Plus, part of his squad also eats in there, and despite them annoying the kriff out of him, he finds a certain comfort in the company of his brothers and sisters in arms. 

Boba is quick to enter the mess hall to get his breakfast, quickly locating his small group of squad members, and striding across the room to where they had been sitting. He rolls his eyes when Din calls his squad members to attention, waving his hand as he sits in the last available seat at the table. 

“At ease,” Boba mutters, “I’ve told you all to stop doing that when we're in the mess. It’s kriffing, annoying, and pointless.”

At Boba’s dismissal of regulation, the men and women around him all roll their eyes and nod in return, because they never listen to him anyways. 

“You’re a Staff Sergeant, Fett,” Fennec retorts, shoving a chunk of toast into her mouth, “Rules are rules.” 

“Well, I don't like the rules,” Boba reminds them, laying his napkin on his lap before digging into his food. 

“Yeah,” Cara pipes up from beside Fennec, “We know. That’s why they picked you to lead this squad. They know you aren’t afraid to do what’s necessary.”

“Can we stop the chatter so I can eat my breakfast?” Boba finally snaps, irritated by the conversation this morning, but unable to pinpoint why.

Boba sees Din about to come up with some snarky remark when a familiar voice interrupts him. The small table turns to see a member from the postal service on base approaching them, pulling a few small packages and letters from the cart he is wheeling around. It’s in this moment that Boba realizes what has been bothering him all morning. 

He watches in silence as his three friends receive letters and packages, eyes bright with excitement at the prospect of hearing from their loved ones back home. The stone faced Staff Sergeant holds true, his features not betraying the small pang of jealousy and heartache he feels at not being able to feel the excitement he sees before him. Boba knows he has no one back home, his parents died when he was younger, and he never settled down with anyone. He is used to being passed over by the mail carrier everytime he comes. Yet, for the first time in his long deployment, he feels a deep sense of loneliness as he watches his comrades open their care packages and letters from those they have back home. 

Boba may be a ruthless man, known for his brutal efficiency in the field, but he’s still human. And as he watches the mail carrier move to walk past him once again, he can’t help the way his heart sinks. 

“Wait,” the man’s voice calls from behind him, “Staff Sergeant Fett?” He calls, making Boba turn around in his seat to face the mail carrier, and his eyes widen as he sees the man holding out a letter to him. “This is for you. I almost missed it.”

Boba reaches for the letter hesitantly, afraid that it’s the maker playing some cruel joke on him, and the letter will disappear the moment he touches it. But when his fingers graze over the paper of the envelope, he clutches onto it, taking the letter from the man's hand, and giving him a small nod. 

“Thank you,” he says shortly.

The mail carrier smiles giving a small salute, “Have a good day.” and then he moves on to the next set of soldiers waiting for their mail. 

Fett finally turns back to face the table once again, ignoring the stares of his soldiers in favor of taking in the letter in his hands. It’s just a regular looking envelope, with a standard stamp. But he notices the writing is a neat scrawl of both his name and address on the base. With a furrowed brow, he reads over the name in the top left corner, the address is in his home state, the city just a few miles from where he lives, but he doesn’t know anyone by that name, yet.

“Who is it from?” Fennec finally asks, her attention moving from her own letter to Fett, curiosity in her eyes.

Boba shakes his head, “I don’t know…” he says honestly, “The name isn’t familiar.”

“Well, open it!” Din says, “They have your name and address so it must be something. Just read it and see what it is.”

Boba does just that. 

He opens the envelope, and pulls out the letter, which consists of three pages of notebook paper, the same neat scrawl decorating the pages. 

_ Dear Staff Sergeant Fett, _

_ Or is that too formal? Should I just call you Boba? Or Mr. Fett? Ah, I’m going to be honest in the fact that I don’t know all that much about the military....But anyways - I should probably introduce myself shouldn’t I?... _

Boba’s eyes scan the rest of the letter, learning your name and that you work in the children’s section of your local library. He is confused at first, until the letter finally reveals that he was assigned to you through the letter exchange program, “Dear Soldier”. Then it all starts to fall into place, and yet he's even more confused. He never signed up for such a program...so how did this happen? 

“So…” Din asks again after a few moments, voice curiously suspicious, “What are they like?”

Boba snaps his head up at this, frustration clear in voice, “You’re behind this?” 

Din leans back, holding up his hands in defence, brown eyes cast down at his empty breakfast plate, “I just noticed that you never get letters-” he says defensively, letting out a sigh of relief when Cara jumps in for him.

“Me and Fennec helped too,” she admits, “It was kriffing depressing seeing you look like a kicked puppy when mail day comes around. So we signed you up for the "Dear Soldier" program.”

Boba stands from his chair abruptly, a low growl slipping past his lips, “I don’t need your pity,” he spits, waving the letter in the air as he does so, “And I sure as hell don’t need some stranger thinking they have to write me out of pity either.” he folds the papers up and shoves them into his jacket pocket, turning to stalk out of the mess hall, but not before calling over his shoulder, “You all have an extra four hours of PT to complete this week.”

The collective groans from behind him make him feel slightly better. 

»»————- ★ ————-««

You didn’t really know what to expect from the "Dear Soldier" program. You had just gotten the flyer in an email from your boss asking you to hang it up on the bulletin board in the kids section of the library. Not realizing it yourself, you knew the feeling of loneliness that Boba was experiencing halfway across the world from you, and perhaps that’s what drew you to writing the letter to a Staff Sergeant Fett. Maybe that’s what led you to tell him your name and what you do for a living. Telling him about the kids you read to every Friday and your favorite children’s book. Maybe the loneliness that you share with a soldier across the globe is what's keeping Boba up the same night he received the letter. 

Sitting at his desk, that same loneliness is what drives him to reread the letter over and over again, feeling as if he already knows so much about you from just three pages. A small smile graces his lips as he reads over the last section of the letter. 

“ _...even though it could be argued that it’s an occupational hazard, some days I feel like i have my nose buried so far in a book that life is just passing me by, you know? Or is that silly? I don’t know...maybe that’s why I pulled the trigger and decided to join this program and send you this letter. I know getting letters makes me happy, and I hope it can make you happy too. We all deserve a little something to brighten our days. _

_ Sincerely…” _

Boba can’t help but appreciate the neat way you sign your name at the bottom of the page. He appreciates a lot of things about this letter. But perhaps the thing he most appreciates is that he isn’t as alone as he thought he was. There was someone out there who feels the same pang of loneliness he used to on mail day. He lets out a low hum as he moves to the beginning of the parchment again, wanting to read the words one more time. And, as he does so, it’s that loneliness - that deep heartache, and his secret desire for some kind of connection, that makes him finally pick up a pen. 

_ Dear Little Librarian... _


End file.
